The Black Chronicles: Book One
by Lani Elliott
Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only Chosen One? What if the prophecy mentioned a second child? And what if this child was the only daughter of Sirius Black, and no one knew about her role that night in Godric's Hollow on Halloween? What if?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I unfortunately do NOT own Harry Potter or any of the recognizable characters. Lissa, however, I DO own.**

**Enjoy! :)**

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Chapter One

I searched the crowd at Platform 9 ¾ for a crop of untidy black hair. My stomach was twisting with nerves…what if he recognized me? What if I failed? My mother wrung her hands nervously as we stood on the platform while I tried to spot him; it had taken a lot of courage for her to come here today to see me off. My mother hadn't entered the wizarding world for ten years, ever since the day they locked my father away. Even now she was disguised as a mousy witch with light brown hair. There were too many people who would recognize Danielle Devereux; we couldn't risk that.

The train whistle blew, signaling the last call for boarding. If I didn't hurry up I would miss my train. I looked at my mother and shrugged.

"He must already be on the train," I told her. She nodded briskly. Her soft blue eyes were the only part of her that I recognized. I wouldn't see my mother for almost an entire year, and suddenly a large lump in my throat was making it hard to swallow. Even though I hadn't had the traditional childhood, I knew my mother loved me dearly, and I hated the thought that I was leaving her all alone for such a long period of time. I stepped forward for one last hug.

"Be safe ma petite," she murmured in my ear, her voice thick with tears, "remember what I've taught you." I nodded, fighting back tears.

"I will Maman," I whispered. She smiled at me, her eyes glowing with a fierce pride. I smiled weakly in return.

"You are strong," she assured me, "And you are your father's daughter. You will do fine. I have faith in you ma petite." I beamed at the compliment. My mother knew how much I wanted to be like my father, not the man everyone thought he was, but the man that only my mother and I still believed him to be. I grabbed my bag and prepared to board the train. I looked back at my mother for a moment, hesitating before entering the world of schoolbooks and spells, a world that I had been familiar with my entire life but had never truly entered. My mother blew me a kiss from the Platform.

"Je t'aime ma petite!" she called into the air. I blew her a kiss in return and turned once more to board the train that would take me away from my home and into a new world. The Hogwarts Express blew its final warning whistle as I shut the door behind me and began searching for an empty compartment. All the while I was searching for that familiar crop of untidy black hair.

The inside of the train was almost as hectic as the platform outside. There were students everywhere. Some were greeting friends with excitement, others were yelling across the train to get people's attention. A few were practicing magic, and multicolored sparks kept shooting out in front of me. There were two boys that seemed to be in the very center of the chaos. They must have been twins because I could hardly tell them apart, but what really caught my eye was the bright orange hair that they shared. I had never seen hair that bright…it was insane. They were laughing and playing a game of catch with what looked like a tiny ball of fireworks. I ducked between them and hurried onward. That part of the train was too crowded anyway. Eventually I got to a section of the train that was fairly calm. Most of the compartments were still full though. I looked into each one before passing on. Then, finally I found one that wasn't full. It wasn't empty though. There were two boys inside. They both looked my age; one had the same bright orange hair as the twins I had seen earlier and I guessed that he must be a younger brother or something. The other boy had messy, jet-black hair and glasses. Jackpot; I had found him.

I opened the compartment door slowly and peeked in; the two boys immediately turned to look at me. I couldn't help but notice the dirt smudged on carrot top's nose. It looked as if someone had tried to rub it off but had failed. I smiled shyly.

"Do you mind if I join you? Everywhere else is full." The two boys shook there heads and I entered the compartment, tugging my trunk behind me. I tried to lift it into the holding compartment, but it was too heavy for me. One of the boys got up and gave me a hand in pushing it up. I smiled and turned to thank him. It was the raven haired boy, the one I had been searching for on the platform with my mother, the entire reason that I was going to Hogwarts at all really. Harry Potter. He was smiling at me, his green eyes bright behind his glasses.

"Thanks," I told him. He shrugged, blushing slightly.

"Don't mention it," he mumbled. He returned to his seat and I took my own next to the redhead.

"I'm Lissa," I introduced myself, "Lissa Devereux." I held out my hand and shook both the redhead's and Harry's hand.

"Ron Weasley," carrot top said, his blue eyes were cheerful and I had a good feeling about him. He seemed like a good person to me. My mother had told me once about her friends, the Prewitts, and Molly Prewitt, who had been a bit older than her and already married to a man named Arthur Weasley when they met. She had told me that the last time they had met Molly and Arthur had already had six boys. Ron must be the youngest of them.

"A pleasure," I told him sincerely before turning to Harry. I already knew who he was. I had grown up across the street from him, although he had no way of knowing that. Had our lives not been broken that fateful night, we probably would've grown up as something akin to brother and sister. His parents had been best friends with my parents. It had been his mother who introduced my mom to my father originally. Without Lily Potter, I might never have been born. After her death, my mother had sworn to protect her only child. It wasn't exactly as if she had a choice. Mine and Harry's fates were connected now.

"I'm Harry Potter," he told me; he seemed nervous. I imagine that he must not be used to all the attention the wizarding world must be throwing at him. Perhaps he was worried that I would be like them and act strange around him. He didn't have to worry about that though. I smiled warmly and leaned back into my seat.

"Nice to meet you Harry," I said honestly. His eyes seemed to flash with relief. I was relieved as well, I had been unsure as to whether or not he would recognize me. I had taken great care with my disguise, but I still hadn't completely mastered my metamorphosing. I knew that I looked nothing like the skinny dark-haired girl that lived across the street from him, nor did I look like the pale-haired, blue-eyed baby he had known years before, but I was still uneasy being so close to him in my disguise. I had tried not to look too ostentatious in my disguise. Right now I had dark red curls cropped short so that they just met my chin and a pale, heart-shaped face. I had enjoyed getting the arrangement of freckles on my nose just right so that they looked cute rather than like blemishes, and my eyes were a pale gray; they were the only thing I kept about my true appearance. All in all, I thought I did a fair job. I think my mother must have been impressed with my disguise, because when she first saw me her face had a look of wonder on it. I quite liked this disguise, but that didn't mean I wasn't nervous that it wouldn't be enough.

"You are both first years, right?" I asked them. They nodded. I beamed. I had already known that Harry was a first year of course, but I hadn't been positive that Ron was in our grade. He seemed a little tall for an eleven-year-old.

"Me, too," I told them, "What house do you think you'll be in?"

"Well," began Ron hesitantly, "My entire family's been in Gryffindor. I'm not sure how they'd react if I got put in a different house." I nodded. I understood the pressures of family houses. My mother had not gone to Hogwarts, but my father had been the first in his family to not be placed in Slytherin. He had been a Gryffindor through and through. I desperately hoped I would follow in his footsteps. I couldn't imagine being placed in Slytherin. I turned to Harry.

"What about you Harry?" I asked. He shrugged; he seemed anxious about this topic.

"I'm not sure which house I'll be in," he admitted, "But I hope it isn't Slytherin." I crinkled my nose at the name.

"Me, too," I agreed whole-heartedly. Suddenly the door to our compartment opened and in stepped a boy our age. He was round and soft looking. His eyes darted about the compartment nervously.

"Have any of you seen a toad?" he asked, "I've lost mine." We all shook our heads. I felt bad for the boy; he looked close to tears. He thanked us quietly and turned around, exiting our compartment forlornly.

As soon as the door closed Ron spoke up.

"I feel bad for him," Ron said, "Toads are horribly out of fashion, and they're pretty useless too. Not that I can really talk," he grimaced slightly, "I've got Scabbers."

"Who?" asked Harry, confused.

"Scabbers," Ron explained, searching through his pockets and pulling out what looked like a lump of scraggly fur, "is my brother Percy's old rat. He's mine now though because Mum and Dad gave Percy Hermes as a reward for getting a prefect position. I felt my heart stop as I took in the sight of the large rat in Ron's hand. I _hated_ rats. I edged away from the rat slowly, hoping not to draw attention to my discomfort. It was useless though. Harry noticed.

"Lissa, are you alright?" he asked, his voice showing a hint of concern. I shook my head a little.

"I just don't like rats that much," I admitted quietly. Ron's eyes widened in surprise and his ears went pink. He quickly shoved Scabbers back into his pocket.

"Sorry," he mumbled quickly. I shook my head. I was fine; there was no reason for me to freak out like this.

"It's fine," I assured him, smiling weakly to let him know I was okay. "I've just never been a fan of rats. You didn't know. And at least you have a pet."

Ron's ears went pink again and he grinned, "yeah well Scabbers is pretty useless," he admitted, "All he ever does is sleep." I laughed slightly and we sank back into easy conversation. We began talking about Ron's family. It was an interesting topic for both me and Harry. Neither of us had grown up with our entire family present. I knew that Harry had gotten the worse end of the bargain though. I at least still had my mother, who I knew loved me even if she was a little strict when it came to training. But I had watched Harry's life with his muggle relatives closely from across the street. I had even been invited to dinner with the Dursleys once, an event I never wanted to repeat. I couldn't imagine growing up the way he had. More than once I had considered befriending him, but my mother had always warned me to keep my distance.

Ron's family was endlessly interesting though. Since my mother had last seen the Weasleys, they had added a little girl to their family. Ron said her name was Ginny and that she was the most annoying sister ever. But he seemed fond of her despite that. He explained how upset she was that she would be the last to go to Hogwarts. He talked about his brother Charlie, who was in Romania, studying dragons and his other brother, Bill who worked as a curse breaker for Gringotts Bank in Egypt. I thought that sounded like the coolest job imaginable, but Harry was more interested to hear about Charlie's job in Romania. We talked for about an hour about Ron's family before a dumpy witch came around hauling a cart of sweets for sale. We all leaped up to take a look at what they offered.

Growing up, my mother had never allowed me to have wizarding candy, but she had told me the stories of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans, and Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. She said her favorite had been peppermint imps, because when you took a bite, steam would come out of your ears and you would feel a mixture of warmth and cold flow through your veins in the strangest manner. I hadn't been given any money for the train ride, but luckily, Harry had plenty, and he bought some of everything. He insisted that Ron and I have as much as we liked. He said that he couldn't possibly eat all of it by himself. Ron and I happily obliged.

The first thing I went for was the peppermint imps. I took a bite and immediately felt the steam coming out of my ears. My eyes widened. My mother had been right. These _were_ amazing! The two boys laughed at me. Harry explained that it was because the steam made it look like my red hair was on fire. I laughed at this and tossed him one. His face after the first bite was priceless.

We were still enjoying the candy when our compartment door opened once again. This time there were three boys at the entrance to our compartment. The boy in the middle was the one that caught my attention though. His face looked proud and haughty, and he was extremely pale. He had white-blonde hair and eyes the color of ice. I didn't like the look of him at all. Nor did I like the look of his two cronies. They were big, and stupid looking, with a look of cruelty etched onto both of their faces. Compared to his friends, the boy in the middle looked like an albino ferret standing next to two enormous gorillas.

"So it's true then," the boy said without bothering with an introduction. He was staring only at Harry.

"We heard a rumor that Harry Potter was in this compartment. You're him?" asked the boy. Harry's eyes had gone cold. I could tell he disliked this boy almost as much as I did.

"Yeah, that's me," he answered coolly. The boy smiled in an uninterested fashion, but I could see a spark of some unidentifiable emotion in his cold gray eyes.

"I don't think I properly introduced myself before," explained the boy, "I'm Draco Malfoy." I was sure that my eyes were as wide as saucers. This boy was a Malfoy? This boy was my…cousin? I felt a hint of revulsion at this thought. I did not want to be related to this boy in any way. I had a very bad feeling about him. He was a snake, whoever he was. Ron seemed to be choking back a laugh. He covered it up as a cough, but Malfoy noticed. His steely gray eyes turned to Ron, and a look of disdain crossed his features.

"You think my name's funny, do you?" he asked coldly, "No need to ask who you are. Red hair, hand-me-down clothes, and a stupid complexion, you must be a Weasley. My father's told me all about your family. Poorer than dirt the lot of you, and blood-traitors to boot." Ron's ears turned pink with embarrassment. I felt surge of anger in my blood. No, I did not like this boy at all. He had no right to talk to anyone like that, least of all Ron, who I was starting to see as a friend.

"Bugger off Malfoy," I said, standing up and meeting his eyes. His gray eyes widened in surprise, as if he hadn't noticed me standing there.

"I _don't_ know you," he admitted, "Care to share?"

"Elizabeth Devereux," I stated coldly. His eyes narrowed.

"I don't think I'm familiar with your family," he stated, "Are you a mudblood?" he asked. I could hear Ron growl behind me.

"No," I answered calmly, even I could hear the steely edge to my voice as I stared defiantly at this boy I was ashamed to call a cousin, "Blood traitor," I clarified, "So you can go now." Malfoy's eyes narrowed in annoyance before he turned back to Harry.

"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others," he told Harry, "You don't want to go mixing with the wrong sort. I can help you there." Malfoy held out his hand to Harry. I looked back at Harry, studying his face. His face showed traces of anger and hatred as he looked at Malfoy steadily.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Harry stated coolly. Malfoy frowned slightly.

"Have it your way then," he said before turning to his cronies, "Crabbe, Goyle, what do you say we take a few snacks for the road? I think these three have more than enough to share." Then he looked at me coldly as he reached for a box of Bertie Bott's.

Malfoy's shout of alarm echoed through our compartment as he yanked his hand away from the box. Clinging to his finger was Scabbers, who had apparently decided to clamp down on Malfoy's finger as hard as possible. I could see blood, and I smiled. Malfoy's eyes were wide with panic.

"Get it off of me!" he shouted in fear. Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem to know what to do as Malfoy flailed wildly, trying to throw Scabbers off. I ducked to avoid getting hit in the face. Scabbers went flying and landed in a pile of candy. Malfoy and his cronies left in a hurry yelling about demon rats. Harry, Ron and I burst out laughing.

"I think I might learn to like Scabbers after all," I told Ron, wiping my eyes after laughing so hard. Ron smiled broadly.

"Yeah, I guess he's not as useless as we thought," he agreed, staring at his rat fondly. Scabbers was already fast asleep, and although I still didn't like him very much, I thought I could probably tolerate his presence.

"Did you know Malfoy, Harry?" asked Ron curiously, "He seemed to know you."

"We met in Diagon Alley," Harry explained, "He was getting his robes fitted at the same time as me. I didn't catch his name though." Ron nodded in understanding.

"What was Malfoy talking about when he mentioned blood-traitors and mudbloods?" asked Harry, curious.

"Well, some wizards, like Malfoy's family, think that magic should be kept in wizarding families only. They're what we call pure-bloods," Ron explained, "meaning that they come from a long line of wizards."

"But what's a mudblood?" asked Harry.

"A mudblood is a foul word used to describe someone who's muggleborn," I explained, "or someone from non-magical parents. It means dirty blood." Harry looked disgusted.

"That's horrible!" he exclaimed heatedly. Ron and I nodded.

"A blood-traitor is someone who comes from a pure-blood family but sympathizes with muggles and muggleborns," Ron added, "like my family." Harry looked at me, confusion written on his face.

"You called yourself a blood-traitor," he stated, "That means that you must be from a wizarding family." I nodded. I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

"But you didn't know who I was?" asked Harry.

"I knew who you were," I told him. His eyes widened, "But I didn't see any reason to act like it was a big deal," I explained, "I'm sure your sick of people staring at your scar every time you tell them your name." I didn't add that I had a scar similar to his on my hand that I could stare at any time I wanted; he didn't need to know that.

"I've never heard of the Devereux family," Ron said. I shrugged.

"I go by my mother's maiden name," I explained. Ron and Harry both looked confused by this.

"What about your father?" asked Harry.

"I don't know my father. My mother just told me that he was a pure-blood and that he died when I was a baby," I lied, "My mother is originally from France, which is why you wouldn't recognize my family name. The Devereux name is a very old one in France."

"Oh," said Ron. Harry said nothing, but he was looking at me strange.

"Did you grow up around wizards?" asked Harry eventually. I shook my head.

"My Dad died because of Voldemort," I explained. I could hear Ron's gasp of surprise at the sound of his name, but I shrugged it off. I had never seen the point of that useless superstition. "After he died my mum decided that she wanted nothing to do with the wizarding world. So she moved to a muggle city and took me with her. We've been living as muggles for ten years now, but she still told me stories about this world." Both boys were looking at me as if I had just announced that I wanted to become a mermaid.

"Mental," Ron whispered. I shot him a warning look and his ears went pink, but I knew that he hadn't meant to be insulting. He was just stating the truth. My story did sound mental. But the truth would've sounded positively insane. My mother had removed us from wizarding society, but only to avoid the harsh whispers and stares that came because of who my father was. We had never given up magic, and in fact I probably knew more advanced magic than some of the fifth years on this train. I had been trained since a young age to fight and defend myself. At the first sign of magic my mother gave me her wand to practice with and began to teach me simple magic. Now I could perform most of the basic spells nonverbally, and I knew quite a few more advanced spells, although I still couldn't perform them nonverbally. I knew that school would be a breeze for me. I already knew everything we would be learning this year, but it was necessary for me to keep an eye on Harry. My mother knew that he would be in more danger once he reentered the wizarding world, and I was her only way to protect her godson. Yeah, that sounded unbelievable even to me. Oh, and to add to it I was a metamorphamagus who's father was currently rotting away in prison for a crime he didn't commit. Uh-huh. That didn't sound crazy at all.

The boys must've sensed my discomfort in talking about my family because they let the matter drop. We went back to talking about Hogwarts and what it would be like. Ron told us the stories his brothers had told him about the castle and its ghosts. We laughed and joked and munched on wizarding candy. Harry started his very own collection of wizard cards from the chocolate frog boxes. I gave him my second Wendelin the Weird and Merlin card, and he gave me his Dumbledore card. I stared down at the familiar face. I had only met Hogwarts's famous headmaster once before. He had come to talk with my mother about something and she had briefly introduced us before sending me off to go and play. He was the only other wizard I had ever met. He had smiled kindly at me and tweaked my nose. I had been seven or eight at the time. He had reminded me of a kindly old grandfather. My mother said that I would most likely be called into his office at some point this year. I wasn't sure what I should expect, but I was just a little excited to finally have a conversation with this man.

We were interrupted once again by the opening of our compartment door. This time it was a girl. She was clearly our age and she had wildly bushy brown hair and large teeth. She was already in her school robes. She looked around at us, her face perfectly serious.

"Have any of you seen a toad?" she asked us, her tone slightly bossy, "A boy named Neville's lost one." We all shook our heads.

"He's already asked us," Ron explained. The girl nodded curtly. Her eyes wandered around the room until they fell upon Harry, or more specifically, his scar.

"Holy cricket you're Harry Potter!" she exclaimed in excitement. I raised an eyebrow at this. Ron and I both looked at each other at the same time. The expression on his face must have mirrored mine. I could guess what he was thinking. We'd already been through this several times today.

"I've read all about you of course," explained the girl as she sat down next to me and held out her hand to shake Harry's. Harry was blushing furiously, and I felt bad for the guy.

"You're in at least five of my books about magical history," she continued, oblivious to Harry's discomfort. "Of course since I'm a muggle-born so I wanted to learn as much as I could about this world, and your name just kept popping up. I'm Hermione Granger by the way," She said all of this without pausing to take a breath once. Harry shook her hand and smiled weakly.

"Nice to meet you," he said politely, but I could tell he was wishing she would stop talking about him. Eventually Hermione seemed to remember that there were others in the room and she turned to me and Ron.

"I didn't catch your names," she said, as if we had already been introduced. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"I'm Lissa Devereux," I said, smiling cordially, "This here is Ron Weasley," I added, motioning to Ron, who waved hesitantly at Hermione. She nodded curtly, all business. Then she spotted the book that was currently sitting in my lap. It was a muggle book, and I had taken it out a while back with the intention of reading it. It was one of my favorites, but every time I would start to open it, Ron or Harry would start a conversation that interested me and I'd forget about it for a little longer.

"Oh I love Pride and Prejudice!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly. My interest in her peaked a bit. Anyone who liked Jane Austen couldn't be all bad in my book.

"You've read it?" I asked, surprised. She nodded enthusiastically.

"I didn't think wizards read Jane Austen, are you a muggle-born like me?" she asked, curious. I shook my head.

"No, but I grew up around muggles," I explained. She grinned.

"Who is your favorite character?" she asked curiously, "I personally love Elizabeth, but I find it interesting to see if others share my point of view."

"I actually rather like Mr. Bennett," I told her, "Although Elizabeth is a close second, Mr. Bennett's wit tends to astound me, although I can't say I agree with his tendency to let his family run wild for his own amusement. It's the reason Lydia gets in so much trouble," I explained.

"Oh but I think Lydia is more the product of her mother's silliness than anything else," Hermione argued. I shook my head slightly.

"Mrs. Bennett certainly encourages Lydia's behavior, but I rather think that if Mr. Bennett had been firmer in teaching his daughters, and his wife for that matter, the rules of propriety then Lydia most certainly wouldn't have acted the way she did. She certainly wouldn't have eloped with Mr. Wickham of all people," I argued, "A girl needs her father to balance out her mother's follies. Mr. Bennett merely encouraged them so that he could have a laugh."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione agreed reluctantly. She was beaming, "It is such a relief to find someone to argue literature with. Of course recently I've switched to reading spell books, but there really is nothing to compare to Austen is there?"

"Certainly not," I agreed wholeheartedly. Hermione glanced at her watch and her eyes went wide.

"I had better get going," she admitted, somewhat reluctantly. I was sure that she wanted to stay and discuss more classic literature with me. She stood and looked back at us before exiting the compartment.

"You all had better change into your school robes," she told us; the bossy tone was back in her voice, "I expect we'll be arriving soon." And then she was gone. I turned back to the boys to find them staring at me in amazement. I raised my eyebrow.

"What?" I asked them, curious as to why they were looking at me like that.

"Who is Lydia?" asked Ron, "And why is it her father's fault that she eloped with Mr. what's-his-name?" I sniggered.

"You mean Mr. Wickham?" I asked, fighting back the urge to laugh.

"Yeah, him; is he a friend of yours?" asked Ron, curiously. I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing. Harry, who evidently was somewhat familiar with Jane Austen, chuckled a little as well.

"No, Ron," I said finally, "Mr. Wickham is a character in a book," I explained, holding up the cover of Pride and Prejudice for him to see. He grabbed it from me and examined it curiously. He opened it and skimmed the first few lines.

"Why are they talking about marriage?" he asked, confused. I snatched the book back, laughing.

"Because that's what the book is about Ron," I told him, amused. He furrowed his brow, thinking hard about this.

"That sounds dead boring," he admitted eventually. I laughed again.

"I suppose to you it might be," I allowed, "but to me it's really pretty amusing."

"Does it have any duels?" asked Ron. I shook my head.

"Wizard's Chess?"

"Nope," I answered.

"Spells?" he tried.

"No Ron," I said, "No magic. It's all perfectly muggle."

"That does sound boring," Ron concluded. I snatched the book from his hand and placed it gently in my bag.

"Well I like it," I told him finally, and that was the end of the discussion. We changed the topic of discussion, and for a while we went back to one of our old discussions about Wizard Cards. Eventually I noticed that it was dark outside. I stood up and stretched.

"We should probably get changed into our school robes now," I told them, "I think we're almost there." The boys agreed and I went outside to wait in the hall while they changed. Harry came out to get me when they were dressed, and then it was their turn to wait outside while I changed clothes. I glanced out the window as I was pulling on my robes and caught a glimpse of a large castle with many lights shining from its windows. It looked happy and welcoming. A shiver of excitement went through me. We were there. I finished getting changed and then went to get the boys and show them their first glimpse of Hogwarts.

The train eventually slowed to a stop and we followed the crowds onto the platform. The air was brisk outside, and I tugged my robes around me a little closer. Harry smiled sympathetically at me when he noticed me shiver. We hovered for a few moments, lost in the confusion of kids running around. Finally we heard it.

"Firs' years!" came a booming voice that sounded over the noise of the crowd, "Firs' years this way!" We fought our way through the crowds until we reached the man who was calling for us.

I should say, we reached the giant that was calling us, because at first glance that was exactly what this man was. He was at least twice as tall as any normal man, and about five times as wide. He was wearing a large overcoat made mostly of pockets. His hair was black and tangled around his face so that the only feature visible was a pair of bright, beetle-like eyes. His initial appearance might have terrified me if I hadn't been able to see the kindness in his warm black eyes. He beamed down at us.

"Hullo there Harry," he greeted Harry with a familiar wave, "How've those muggles been treating yeh?" Harry was beaming at the giant.

"Like usual," he answered, "It's good to see you again Hagrid." Hagrid, so that was the giant's name. I looked up at him. I remembered my mother mentioning a man named Hagrid once as the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, and an old friend of my father's. This must be him. He looked down at me and Ron, finally noticing us.

"And who're these folks then?" he asked, or yelled, depending on how you measured volume. Harry put an arm around me and Ron both.

"These are my friends," Harry stated proudly, and I felt a warm feeling creep into my stomach at his mention of friends. I knew that Harry had never had any friends before, and I had never been given time for friends. My only source of company came from my mother when she would sit by the fire and tell me stories about my father and his friends. The thought that he considered me to be one of his friends was gratifying. It would be difficult to remember that I was more than just a friend; I was his protector, too.

"Well, now, it's nice ter meet yeh 'Harry's Friends'," teased Hagrid jovially, "Yeh wouldn't happen ter have names now would yeh?" Harry blushed a little.

"I'm Lissa," I said, holding out my hand to shake Hagrid's, "And it's very nice to meet another friend of Harry's." Hagrid smiled at me kindly, but I thought I caught a glimpse of recognition in his eyes. I had no doubt that Hagrid knew a bit more than he let on, but I didn't know how much he knew about me specifically. He turned to Ron, who quickly turned bright pink.

"And ye are?" nudged Hagrid.

"Ron Weasley, sir," squeaked Ron. Hagrid laughed a great, booming laugh.

"There's no need to be callin' me sir," Hagrid told Ron, "Don't reckon nobody's called me that me entire life. Hagrid'll do jest fine." Ron nodded as Hagrid clapped him on the back, chuckling to himself. Ron's knees buckled at the force, and I snorted in amusement.

"Well come on then," Hagrid called, signaling for us and the rest of the first years to follow him. We followed him to a dock with boats and I froze. There were a grand total of two things that I was afraid of. One of them was rats; the other thing was the water. I hadn't realized that we'd have to travel across the lake. My heart rate began to speed up as the panic began to set in. I tried to maintain my calm. My mother had taught me to never show fear, and so far I thought that I was doing a fairly good job. Anybody who knew me well might be able to detect my discomfort, but anybody else would have a hard time guessing that I was afraid.

"Four to a boat now!" yelled Hagrid, and Harry, Ron, and I moved to one of the boats. I carefully lowered myself in while Harry and Ron followed. The last person to join our group was the same boy we had met earlier asking about his lost toad. Hermione had said his name was Neville. He looked about as nervous as I felt, and I guessed that he was terrified of water, too.

As the boats set off, Ron began to talk with Neville, who seemed to gradually be getting over his fear. I remained stiff, trying to regulate my breathing, and forcing myself to look anywhere but at the water. I thought I was doing a good job of hiding my terror, but Harry was either more observant than most or I was losing my ability to hide emotions, because he noticed something was wrong.

"Lissa," he called, getting my attention. I looked at him, his face showed concern.

"Yes Harry?" I asked, just managing to keep my voice from shaking.

"Are you alright?" he asked, "You seem a little…off," he explained. I nodded.

"I'm fine," I lied. But then I accidentally looked at the water. It was black as night and appeared endlessly deep. The sound of it lapping against our boat was distinctly sinister to my ears, and I imagined everything that could be lurking in the depths. I felt myself break into a cold sweat. I was brought back to earth by the feeling of Harry's warm hand on my shoulder. He was looking at me with evident concern.

"It's okay to be afraid of the water," he assured me, "We're all afraid of something."

"I'm not afraid," I snapped slightly. I gave him an apologetic wince, but he just nodded understandingly and let the matter drop. But he kept his hand on y shoulder the rest of the way. I was grateful for his silent support, and I concentrated on the stars for the rest of the boat ride as he joined the conversation with Neville and Ron about Neville's toad, Trevor.

We arrived on the other side of the lake at long last, and I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief. My legs were shaking slightly as I went to get out of the boat and I tripped. I would've fallen into the lake, but Harry and Ron both caught and steadied me. I smiled gratefully at both of them as we followed Hagrid into the castle.

Hogwarts Castle was like nothing I had ever seen before. The Entry Hall was enormous, with marble pillars spread out, supporting the ceiling, which was so far up that I couldn't even see it very clearly. A huge staircase led to several different doors, and there were statues and tapestries everywhere you looked. The paintings on the walls all looked down at us in interest as we stared back with equal fascination. Four large hourglasses stood off to the side. Each was filled with a different colored gemstone, and carved with the name of one of the four houses. A large set of doors was also off to the side, and I wondered where they led. We all stood there, waiting for whatever came next. I thought I saw a few ghosts floating in the corner, but when I went to point them out to Harry and Ron, they had disappeared. We stood there waiting for a long time. I could hear Malfoy bragging about how everyone in his family had been in Slytherin and how he was sure to get in as well. I felt another wave of disgust at the fact that I was related to that slime ball, however distantly.

"I think I'd kill myself if I were in Slytherin, wouldn't you?" I asked Ron in a light, friendly tone, making sure that Malfoy could hear me.

"No one wants to hear your opinion Devereux," Malfoy sneered. I turned around to face him. He had a smug look on his face that I didn't like.

"Fortunately I don't think I was talking to you Malfoy," I snarled. I really disliked this boy, and the fact that he shared at least a portion of my blood made me despise him all the more.

"You know, I asked about your last name on the train, and it turns out your family is French, isn't it?" asked Malfoy, his voice falsely curious. It was clear that he already knew the answer.

"What's your point, Malfoy?" I asked impatiently.

"Well it seems that the Devereux family had a curiously bad run of luck recently. Their last generation consisted only of daughters," Malfoy hinted. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.

"Again I ask, what's your point?" I was finding difficulty controlling my anger with him around.

"Well, apparently the Devereux name has died out, seeing as all of the daughters married and changed their names…all except your mother apparently." I was seeing red. I knew where he was going with this.

"So I asked myself, how could you possibly be a Devereux if you're attending Hogwarts, and I could only find two conclusions," Malfoy continued, his face smug, and a hint of malevolent anticipation in his eyes.

"And what did you conclude?" I asked sarcastically.

"Either you're lying about your last name being Devereux," Malfoy began and I felt my eyes widen in shock. He was too close to the truth for my liking. "Or," Malfoy continued.

"Or what Malfoy?" I asked, "Spit it out."

"Or you're the bastard child of some British wizard and your mother is a whore," finished Draco, and I heard the intakes of breath all around us. Apparently everyone around us had been listening closely. I didn't think; I acted. One second I was with Harry and Ron, and the next I was directly in front of Malfoy with my wand out and pointed directly at his throat.

"If you ever talk that way about my mother again I will not hesitate to hex you so hard you won't be able to stand," I threatened him, perfectly serious. "You don't know shit about me or my mother, and if you know what's best for you then you'll leave it at that. Am I understood?" I knew that my voice was icy, and I knew that to anyone else, the seriousness of my threat was clear. Malfoy's eyes were wide with fear and hatred. He nodded slightly and I lowered my wand.

"You disgust me," I told him loud enough for all to hear, and then turned back to join Harry and Ron, putting my wand away in the process. I heard movement behind me and saw Ron and Harry's furious faces before I heard a strict voice calling from on top of the staircase.

"Young man you put that wand away this instant!" screamed a stern looking witch as she made her way down the staircase. She was dressed in emerald robes and her hair was pulled back tightly beneath a large, pointed hat. Her eyes were hidden behind square-shaped spectacles. She looked furious. I turned to see Malfoy, pale at the prospect of being caught, hurriedly hiding his wand, which I guessed he had been pointing at me a few seconds ago. The witch looked appalled.

"I cannot believe I just saw you draw your wand on an unsuspecting opponent!" she seethed, "And a girl no less! What is your name?" Draco looked terrified.

"Draco Malfoy," I answered for him, "His name is Draco Malfoy."

"Detention Mr. Malfoy," said the woman firmly, "And 20 points from whichever house is unfortunate enough to receive you." Malfoy sputtered.

"But professor she drew her wand on me first!" Draco protested. I caught a glimpse of Ron and Harry snickering in glee.

"Preposterous!" snapped the witch, "I'll hear no such excuses from you Mr. Malfoy. That's 20 more points. Would you care to make it more?" Malfoy shut his mouth immediately, glowering dangerously in my direction. I knew that I had just made my first official enemy at Hogwarts. Interesting…that didn't take me long at all. The witch straightened herself up and surveyed us all; I thought I caught her winking in my direction, but I might have imagined it.

"Now, after that appalling display, let me introduce myself," she began, her tone brisk and business like, "I am Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor, deputy headmistress, and instructor of Transfiguration here at Hogwarts. I am here to guide you to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. If you would all follow me into the Great Hall, we can get started." And with that she turned to lead us in the direction of the two great double doors leading out of the Entrance Hall. As we walked Ron whispered in my ear.

"You're bloody mental, you know that right?" Ron stated; I could hear a hint of admiration in his voice and I smirked.

"I know," I agreed. Harry snorted at my response, shaking his head in amusement.

"Try not to hex anyone on our first day," he suggested. I widened my eyes innocently.

"How could I do that?" I asked him innocently, "I don't know any hexes." Ron guffawed, but Harry just narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion.

"It wouldn't surprise me if you did," he told me, and I had a feeling that he was being perfectly serious about that. I rolled my eyes and shoved him playfully. As we entered the Great Hall though, all playful banter stopped. The Great Hall had four long tables and one big table at the very front on a raised platform. The four tables were filled with older students, all jabbering away as they caught up with each other after a long summer apart. The hall fell silent as we entered though, and all eyes fell on us. But that wasn't what had my attention. What I was focused on was the ceiling…or lack of one for that matter, because the Great Hall appeared to open up into the heavens, revealing the night sky above us.

"It's not really the night sky," Hermione whispered to anyone who would listen, "It's just enchanted to look like it. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." I managed to pull myself away from the ceiling long enough to look up at the raised table. I saw Hagrid, sitting at the very end, and as my eyes traveled across the table they landed on the man sitting in the very middle. He was seated in the headmaster's chair, and he had a long, silvery beard, a crooked nose upon which a pair of half-moon spectacles rested, and twinkling blue eyes. I remembered his face from when I was younger. He hadn't changed much. This was Albus Dumbledore, and his gaze was fixed directly on mine. This time I _know_ I saw him wink. Somehow, someway, Albus Dumbledore recognized me as the eight-year-old daughter of Danielle Devereux he had met three years ago.

We followed Professor McGonagall to the front of the Great Hall. She instructed us to stay there. Then she disappeared out of a different set of doors, coming back momentarily holding a stool and an old patched up wizard's hat. She set the hat upon the stool and then waved her wand. A scroll appeared in midair. She opened it and spoke clearly for all to hear.

"When I call your name please come forward and place the Sorting Hat upon your head and wait to be sorted into your respective houses. Then you may go and join your fellow housemates at their table." I heard Ron grumble beside me.

"I'm going to murder Fred," Ron muttered, "Mountain trolls my arse." I bit back a laugh. Fred must have been one of Ron's many brothers. I couldn't remember if he had mentioned him during the train ride.

"ABBOT, HANNAH!" called Professor McGonagall. A young girl with blond pigtails stepped forward nervously and sat down on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat upon her head and, to my astonishment, a rip in the hat opened to form a mouth.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" it announced. The girl smiled and bounced down to go and join her new house.

"BONES, SUSAN!" Another girl stepped forward, this time she had red hair and she walked confidently to the stool.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted once more. The girl hopped down and walked slowly toward her house, grinning all the while. She sat next to Hannah Abbott and the two began whispering and giggling. I zoned out until I heard my name called.

"DEVEREUX, ELISABETH!" Harry and Ron squeezed my shoulders reassuringly and I grinned at them before stepping forward. I noticed Dumbledore's gaze focused intensely on me as I walked forward. I sat down slowly on the stool and the hat was lowered until it dropped over my eyes. I could no longer see anything except the inside of the hat.

"_Hmmm…" _came a voice not my own, and I had to bite back a yelp of surprise, _"Keeping secrets from your friends now, aren't you?"_ Panic gripped me.

_"That's none of your business,"_ I snapped mentally.

_"Everything's my business,"_ said the hat, _"I never thought I'd get another Black though. So that leaves the question of where to put you…" _ A different kind of fear filled my gut. What if the hat placed me in Slytherin because of who my family was? Oh please no!

_"Not Slytherin," _I begged.

_"Are you sure?" _asked the hat, _"Many of your family did exceedingly well in Slytherin…"_ I felt a surge of anger at this thought.

"_I am _nothing_ like them!"_ I screamed mentally.

"_Are you certain of that?" _asked the hat. I got the feeling that it was enjoying torturing me.

_"Yes,"_ I answered firmly.

"_Well this does provide a dilemma. You're incredibly clever, so you'd do well in Ravenclaw…but…I think it better be…"_

_ "_GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted this last word out loud and I heaved a sigh of relief. I grinned widely and stood shakily, removing the hat quickly and almost skipping to the Gryffindor table. I had never felt such relief in my entire life. That had been too close for my comfort. The fact that the hat had wanted me in Slytherin because of my family was still infuriating, but I resolved not to think any more on it.

I sat at the Gryffindor table beside the Weasley twins who introduced themselves to me as Fred and George. I was greeted heartily by the Gryffindors, and even Percy, Ron's oldest brother still at Hogwarts pompously congratulated me on making it into the best house at Hogwarts. I wasn't sure if I should be gratified by his welcome or not, because he seemed to me like an insufferable know-it-all. Fred and George seemed to agree with me judging by how much they teased him.

I watched the rest of the Sorting Ceremony with enjoyment. I cheered loudly when Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor; she seemed nice, if maybe a little bossy and I had a feeling that I could become good friends with her. She sat across from me, grinning from ear to ear and we both congratulated each other.

I booed with the rest of the Gryffindors whenever a new Slytherin was added to their numbers, and I made sure to add extra volume specifically for Draco Malfoy who, no surprise, was sorted into Slytherin almost as soon as the hat was on his head. I wondered if he would ever realize just how hard I had fought not to end up like him and the rest of my father's family. I doubted it. After that I kind of tuned out the sorting, that is until Harry's name was called.

"POTTER, HARRY!" called Professor McGonagall. Immediately the entire hall went silent as Harry stepped forward.

"Is that him?" asked a girl sitting to my left. Fred and George, who apparently had met him earlier on the train nodded to confirm that it was indeed Harry Potter. I could hear the whispers like a hive of bees, buzzing about the Great Hall, echoing off the walls. I felt bad for Harry, and for the thousandth time I was grateful that I had escaped that kind of fame. Of course, if anyone ever discovered who my father was, whispers would be the least of my problems I was sure.

Professor McGonagall placed the hat on Harry's head and the whole hall waited with baited breath. It didn't escape my notice that Dumbledore, who had twiddled with his thumbs throughout the entire Sorting Ceremony, was staring at Harry with as much intensity as he had fixed me with. This sorting was taking longer than the others to finish. I wondered if the Sorting Hat was arguing with Harry about his placement the way it had argued with me. I wondered if I should ask Harry. I decided it wasn't a good idea. I would never reveal to anyone that the Sorting Hat had wanted to place me in Slytherin. Finally the Sorting Hat came to a decision.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted, and everyone at the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers. Hermione and I joined in with the others, and I might have been one of the loudest. I could not describe my relief that Harry and I would be in the same house. It made protecting him that much easier, and I couldn't deny that a selfish part of me had hoped we would be in the same house because he and Ron were my only real friends at Hogwarts. I had a feeling that I would probably add Hermione and Hagrid to that list eventually, and perhaps I might even add Neville and the Weasley twins…it was a possibility. But Harry would always be my first friend, and we shared so much in common that I couldn't help but automatically feel closer to him than anyone else, aside from my own mother. As Harry walked towards us the cheers got louder. The twins were shouting something along the lines of "WE GOT POTTER!" at the other tables, and even Percy Weasley was bragging to one of his fellow prefects from another house about Gryffindor's extraordinary good luck. Harry sat down next to me and I smiled at him, yelling my congratulations over the still thunderous cheers.

"Thanks!" he yelled back, "You, too!" and then it quieted down and the sorting continued. Ron was one of the last sorted, and by the time his turn came he looked positively green. But the hat didn't even think about it, it just shouted Gryffindor, and then it was over. Ron sat next to Hermione and beamed at Harry and me.

"Brilliant luck right?" he asked us cheerfully, "I mean the odds of us all getting into the same house…"

"Yeah well I don't imagine there was ever any doubt we'd all be in the same house," I said confidently. Ron shrugged.

"The hat seemed unsure about where to put you Lissa," Hermione chimed in, "It took longer on you than anyone else." My eyes widened in surprise. I hadn't really thought about how long the hat had spent on me from an outsider's point of view.

"Yeah well, she got in didn't she?" Ron argued grumpily, "So drop it." I smiled at Ron gratefully. I was done thinking about my almost disastrous sorting ceremony. Suddenly the entire hall fell silent as Dumbledore stood to address us. He looked around the Great Hall with twinkling eyes; his gaze once again stopped on me and Harry.

"It pleases me to see so many smiling faces here tonight," Dumbledore began, "Some of you are new, and to you I say, welcome. Some of you are old; to you I say welcome back. Before we begin our excellent feast, I have just a few words for you." I groaned inwardly. I was starving. The sweets on the train seemed like forever ago, and I was in no mood to listen to a long drawn out speech before dinner. Dumbledore seemed to sense my frustration because he smiled conspiratorially at me before continuing.

"Nitwit, Blubber, Newt and Tweak," he said calmly before sitting down once more. Harry and I looked at one another in astonishment. Harry turned to Percy.

"Is he mad?" he asked Percy. Percy looked at him strangely.

"The man's a genius," Percy told him, "The best headmaster Hogwarts has ever had, but yes, I suppose he is just a bit mad. Some chicken Harry?" and that was when I noticed the food laid out before us: piles of food. It was more food than I had ever seen in my life. I immediately began to pile some of it on my plate. Ron had already begun stuffing his face, and I had to laugh at the vaguely disgusted look Hermione was shooting him. I dug into my shepherd's pie and I had to admit that it was some of the best food I'd ever tasted. I think I might have groaned a bit.

"This is fantastic!" I exclaimed after swallowing my first bite. Harry and Ron both garbled their agreement around the food they were currently shoving in their mouths. Like Hermione, I wasn't sure if I should be disgusted or amused. Poor manners aside, I could get used to meals like this. I grabbed a piece of steak and some potatoes. I began scarfing down the food as quickly as possible. It was mostly silent for a little while as many people concentrated on eating, but eventually the talk turned to families.

"I'm half-and –half," announced a boy sitting a little ways down the table from us. I discovered that his name was Seamus Finnegan, and that he was a first year like us, "My dad's a muggle, mum's a witch. It was a bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out he's been married to a witch for the past ten years." We all laughed at this. Neville Longbottom was telling Hermione about his grandmother and how everyone in his family had originally thought he was a squib. I tuned it out. Family stories didn't particular interest me. Eventually someone might ask for mine, and I didn't particularly feel like sharing, especially after the scene with Malfoy in the Entrance Hall. Luckily, most of the first years seemed to be remembering this incident, and they steered clear of me and my family. I was just reaching for another chicken wing when a pale, translucent figure appeared from behind Ron. I nearly screamed. I had never seen a ghost before. As it was, I did clutch my heart in surprise.

"Hello there," I greeted the ghost politely. The ghost in question was dressed in the style of Elizabethan England, and he smiled warmly at my greeting.

"And hello to you, too young miss," he saluted me warmly, "I must say it is a pleasure to meet such a lovely young lady at my very own table. I am Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor House Resident Ghost if you will," I nodded at him.

"Lissa Devereux," I introduced myself. Sir Nicholas's eyebrows rose.

"Lissa would be short for Elisabeth I imagine?" he asked. I grinned.

"You are correct sir, but I prefer Lissa," I answered. Sir Nicholas bowed deeply.

"A name fit for a queen Miss Lissa," he said with a flourish. I blushed.

"I know you!" Ron exclaimed, pointing at Sir Nicholas, "You're Nearly-Headless Nick!" Sir Nicholas straightened himself and looked disdainfully down his nose at Ron.

"I prefer Sir Nicholas if you don't mind," he said stiffly.

"How can one be nearly headless?" questioned Hermione curiously. Sir Nicholas appeared chagrinned.

"Like this," he said, and with that he tugged on his head, which fell sideways, revealing the muscle and bone. Hermione screamed in shock. It was quite a grotesque sight to be sure. Sir Nicholas's head remained attached to his neck by a thin sliver of skin, but the rest was clearly detached from his body. Sir Nicholas replaced his head and with a disgruntled farewell, floated off into one of the walls. I glared at Ron, who was staring after Sir Nicholas, looking just a bit green.

"Weird fellow," he mumbled after a minute.

"I liked him!" I protested, "He was a perfect gentleman until you opened your big mouth!"

"Yeah well that was because he was comparing you to bloody Queen Elizabeth!" Ron snapped. I chose to disregard that comment. I rolled my eyes and turned to examine the teachers more closely. I saw Professor McGonagall sitting to the right of Dumbledore. She was talking to a short, bearded man while Dumbledore listened to their conversation, adding comments where he saw fit. I looked to the left of Dumbledore, there was a man dressed in black robes with sallow skin and a hooked nose. His eyes were a beady black, and unlike Hagrid's they looked cold and distant. He wore a frown on his face and he was speaking to a man in a purple turban. As I looked at the man with the purple turban a searing pain went through my right hand. I dropped my fork, hissing as I glanced down at the scar on my hand. It was the scar that stayed with me always. No matter how many times I tried to will it away the same way I willed away my hair and other features it always stayed stubbornly in place. It was thin and shaped in a thin spiral across my palm. Right now it was standing out more than usual: glowing a bright red, as if it were newly healed instead of ten-years-old. What was going on? My scar had never hurt like this before. I bit my lip to keep from crying at the pain, but it was getting worse. I looked up at the man with the turban suspiciously. But I was distracted by Hermione.

"Harry, are you alright?" asked Hermione; I looked over at Harry to see him rubbing his scar. His face was tight from pain. Another wave of pain shot through my hand and I clenched it in a tight fist and bit my lip. Both Harry's and my scar were hurting at the same time? What was going on? I glanced around the Great Hall in search of any signs of danger. The warm, full feeling I had a few moments ago was gone now. In its place was a pit of anxiety gnawing at my stomach. I couldn't see anything strange but suddenly Hogwarts didn't seem as safe as it had an hour ago. My scar burned one last time and I flinched. I caught Harry's eye as I did so. His eyes narrowed in concern, and I knew he had noticed my pain. This wasn't good.

"Harry," Hermione repeated, and Harry broke off his stare to look in her direction. He smiled to show that he was fine, but I could tell that he was shaken by whatever had just happened. The pain in my scar was gone now and I unclenched my fist to look at it. It was still bright red, but it was quickly fading back to its normal appearance. Strange. I looked up and saw Harry's wide eyes fixed on my scar. I closed my fist quickly and hid my hand under the table, but it was too late. Harry had seen the scar, and whether he had made the connection between my scar and his was unclear, but he would figure out that my scar had been what was bothering me. I was sure of that. I met his eyes, which were clouded with confusion and then looked away guiltily. I was lying to him, to all of my new friends, and I would continue to do so. I didn't like it though; I wanted to tell them everything. Surely Harry had a right to know that we had gone through the nightmare together? But I had my instructions. I was to tell no one the truth no matter what. That was what my mother had drilled into me for as long as I could remember. Tell no one the truth. My life was destined to be built on secrets and lies. I felt a pang of sadness, and no matter how hard Harry stared at me the rest of the feast, I refused to meet his eyes.

The feast eventually ended and the first years all followed Percy up the many staircases of Hogwarts to Gryffindor Tower. I had to force myself not to stop to stare at all of the paintings, but the paintings loved to stare at me. For whatever reason they're eyes constantly seemed to fall on me. I noticed a few of them moving from painting to painting, and I had to tell myself that I was just being paranoid. I couldn't hear what they were whispering either, but it was getting on my nerves. When we finally reached our destination I can't say I wasn't relieved. This night had been long and I was ready to go to sleep. Of course the entrance to Gryffindor Tower just had to be another portrait, and she stared at me as much as the others had. I honestly would've expected Harry to get a few stares, but not me.

"Fortuna Major," Percy said clearly, letting us know the password. The Fat Lady nodded, not saying a word and opened slowly to reveal the entrance. The entire time her eyes stayed locked with mine, her expression knowing. I tilted my head in confusion, but shrugged it off. I was too tired to do much thinking right now anyway, and it had been a long day. As we entered the Gryffindor common room I managed to take in the fat arm chairs and cushions all laid out by a warm, crackling fire. Two staircases led off to the different dormitories. Percy pointed me and the other first year girls toward our dormitory and Ron and Harry were pointed in the opposite direction. I said goodnight to my new friends and went up to my dormitory, Harry's eyes still on my back the entire time. As soon as I was out of sight I breathed a sigh of relief.

The first year girls' dormitory was bigger than I would have expected. There were only four four-poster beds, spread out around the room with scarlet hangings. There was a fireplace in the center of the room and a door leading off to the bathrooms. My stuff was placed at the foot of a bed directly next to a window. I grabbed my things from my trunk and set them out. My books went on a shelf hanging just over my bedside table and a photo of me and my mother when I was younger went on my bedside table. I smiled at the moving photograph. I was maybe three or four in the picture, and my photograph was black and white so that you really couldn't see the major differences in my appearances back then and now. My mother looked beautiful as usual. Her long blonde hair fell around her like a silver waterfall and she was laughing as she spun me around. We were playing in the fall leaves, and I was bundled up from the cold and giggling. I smiled slightly at the picture and then changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed. Hermione had the bed directly to the right of mine. This put her next to the window as well. She smiled at me before turning around and falling immediately asleep. Despite my exhaustion I couldn't shut my mind off enough to sleep. I wondered what had happened at dinner with my scar. I glanced at it. It looked perfectly normal now, but earlier it had burned me. That had never happened before. I wondered if it had anything to do with the man in the purple turban…I had a bad feeling about him. I resolved not to trust him, whoever he was. Hogwarts had been exactly as my mother had described it to me so far, and I couldn't help but think about my father and his old friends, the Potters. Had Lily Potter once slept in this dorm? Had this once been her bed? And had my father ever had trouble sleeping at Hogwarts? My mother had told me stories about him, but I longed to know what he was like. It killed me that he was alive and well, and I couldn't see him. I turned over and looked out the window. My father had loved this school; that much I knew. And I was now in the one place he viewed as home. I felt a connection with my father like I'd never felt before. I pulled on the thin chain around my neck to reveal a small, twisted piece of a golden shard. The old decorations were barely visible. No one would ever guess this was shrapnel from a snitch. It was the snitch that I caught. It was the snitch that I had been holding the night everything fell apart. I held the last gift from my father tighter and closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep.

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**Okay so that was the first chapter. I made a few changes. Mostly just gramar notes and some alterations to my French. I apologise to anyone who read the original version who spoke French. I'm not fluent, but I'm learning. I've only been taking it for a year though, and I wrote this chapter before I began my lessons. Sorry! Anyway, reviews are always appreciated. In fact, they're encouraged. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Told you I'd have it up soon ;) Anyways I hope you all appreciate the fact that I'll probably fail high school due to my insane need to update on this story lately...be grateful!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...but I'm working on it...hehehe :)**

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Chapter Two

I wasn't sure when I fell asleep the night before, but I woke up to the sun on my face and Hermione telling me it was time to get dressed or we'd be late for our first day of classes. I groaned and rolled over, hoping to get a few minutes more of sleep, but it was no use. I was awake now. I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes slowly. The other girls in our grade were still sleeping. I tried to remember their names. I thought that the short girl with curly brown hair might be named Lavender, but I couldn't for the life of me remember the name of the dark skinned girl with raven-black hair. I knew that it was something exotic sounding and that she had a twin sister in Ravenclaw named Padma, but I still couldn't remember her name. I shrugged it off and threw a pillow at Lavender to wake her up before heading to the bathroom to get ready.

Looking in the mirror I was glad that I was a metamorphamagus. Being able to change your appearance at will has its advantages. I could pretend to be brushing my hair, but really after just a few subtle changes my hair was falling perfectly in loose curls and my skin was bright and clear. I knew I wouldn't ever need makeup or beauty potions because I could make myself as beautiful or as ugly as I wished. The one disadvantage was that if I did that then I was never just being me. I shrugged that thought away almost as soon as it entered my brain. I couldn't be myself anyway, so I might as well have some fun with my disguises. I checked my reflection in the mirror one more time before going to pull on my robes. When I was finished getting ready I grabbed my bag full of books and headed down to the Great Hall.

Harry and Ron were both waiting for me at the Gryffindor table, their eyes still clouded with sleep. I plopped myself next to Ron and greeted them both cheerfully while reaching for a muffin and pouring myself a glass of pumpkin juice. Harry and Ron both just groaned. I guessed that they wouldn't be awake for a few more minutes, but that instant the mail came. And that woke Harry up at least. I don't think he'd ever been told about the morning mail at Hogwarts, but I was prepared for it. Hundreds of owls poured into the Great Hall, swooping to find their owners in an elegant dance of feathers. I looked up, wondering if any of them had a message from my mother. One owl dropped the Daily Prophet into my lap and held out its leg for payment. I gave it the money it wanted and unfurled the newspaper, skimming the headline. What I saw made me uneasy. Gringotts had been broken into, and although nothing had been reported stolen, the culprit had gotten free. I didn't think anything like that had ever happened in the history of the bank. It was supposedly safer than Hogwarts. I lowered the paper and looked up to see a large, golden owl sitting in front of me, its bright blue gaze fixed steadily on me.

"Ella?" I breathed in shock.

"You know this bird?" asked Harry, curious. I nodded as Harry reached out to stroke her. The owl made a noise of affection and nipped lightly at Harry's fingers. Harry grinned.

"Who does she belong to?" asked Harry, curious.

"My mum," I lied. Ella didn't belong to my mum. Ella was my mother in her animagus form: her _illegal_ animagus form. My mother held out her leg for me to grab the letter from her talons. I grabbed it quickly and opened it with trembling fingers. The writing was familiar. It was the same elegant script I had been reading my entire life. It was also in French. I was guessing that this was because my mother didn't want to risk the letter being read by the wrong person. Translated it read:

_My Dearest ,_

_Meet me in the owlery after your last class of the day. I would love to hear all about your first day of school. I cannot change form then because there is too much risk that someone will see me, but at least you will be telling it to me face to face, or face to beak—whichever way you wish to look at it—I look forward to seeing you then. You can expect another letter from me soon; I have some news to tell you. I love you my sweet._

_All My Love,_

_Maman_

_P.S. Remember to call me Ella._

I looked up to see Ron staring over my shoulder, trying to read what my letter said. I glared at him and folded my letter quickly, tucking it into my bag and feeding Ella my piece of bacon.

"You shouldn't read other people's mail," I said calmly, stroking Ella's feathers. She rubbed her head against my hand and nipped affectionately at my fingers. I smiled wide. It felt good to have contact with my mother, even if it was unconventional. I glanced up to see Ron's ears turning pink with embarrassment.

"It's not as if I could read anything," he mumbled under his breath, "It's all in French."

"To prevent nosy friends from reading it," I affirmed. Harry looked on amused.

"You speak French?" asked Harry, curious. I nodded.

"My mother's from France, remember?" I reminded him. Ella nipped at my hand a little harder and I yanked my hand back, staring at her in shock. I recognized that look of reproach on Ella's face. Even though my mother was currently disguised as an owl I could still hear her voice as clear as day in my mind.

"_Don't give too much away ma petite." _I rolled my eyes and glared at Ella. I could keep the secret. I took out my schedule and began scanning the classes we had today.

"We have Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws today," I read off, "And then Herbology with Hufflepuffs, and after that we have lunch and then a double session of Defense Against the Dark Arts with Ravenclaw. It looks as if we don't have any classes with Slytherin at all today, which is great." Ella was still there, and I was guessing that she was waiting to hear when I'd be coming up.

"Classes don't get out till 3:00 today," I told her, "I'll write back to Maman then." Ella nodded and then took off in a flurry of feathers, cuffing the back of my head as she went. It was my mother's way of reminding me that even though she was in owl form, she was still my mother. I guessed that she was annoyed at me for snapping. I rolled my eyes and turned back to my schedule. I could feel Harry and Ron looking at me. I looked up to meet their stares.

"What?" I snapped. Ron looked away, but Harry kept staring.

"You just snapped at an owl," Harry stated calmly, "Are you alright?" I laughed. I hadn't realized what talking to Ella would sound like.

"I'm fine," I told him, "I think I'm just nervous for today. And Maman must've told Ella to wait until I wrote back. She worries about me up here," I lied. Harry nodded. Just then Hermione showed up, buzzing with excitement. Ron rolled his eyes and went back to stuffing his face. I laughed; I could tell that Ron thought Hermione was annoying, but I liked her.

"Are you ready for class yet?" Hermione asked me, her leg bouncing up and down in her seat. I held up my spoonful of cereal in answer.

"Just give me a second to finish my cereal," I mumbled around a spoonful.

"Aren't you going to eat, Hermione?" asked Harry curiously. Hermione laughed breathlessly and shook her head.

"Goodness no," she answered cheerfully, "I'm far too excited to actually eat something," she explained. I finished my last spoonful with a satisfied sigh. Hermione noticed immediately.

"Come on then!" she urged me as she dragged me out of my seat, "I want to get a seat at the front!" I waved goodbye to Harry and Ron as Hermione literally dragged me away.

"First class is Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall," Hermione gushed excitedly, "I hear she's really strict, but a brilliant teacher, and she's head of Gryffindor so maybe she'll go easy on us, but I doubt it. I wouldn't if I were in her place." I let Hermione ramble on, nodding when she paused and giving my opinion when asked. I was excited for Transfiguration as well, but mainly because it had always been one of my best subjects. I was a metamorphamagus; shifting came naturally to me, and so did forcing other objects to change their shape. I had always just understood the theory behind Transfiguration, and although I knew that we most likely wouldn't be learning anything new for me, I was still excited to practice, and maybe just a little bit glad for the chance to show off a bit. Sue me, I'm a little vain.

Hermione and I were the first two in the class; even Professor McGonagall seemed to be absent. There was, however, a small tabby cat sitting primly on top of Professor McGonagall's desk. The cat was gray in color, and there was something familiar about it. Then I realized what it was; the cat had markings around its eyes the exact shape of Professor McGonagall's spectacles. My eyes widened. It made sense for the Transfiguration teacher to be an animagus, after all that was the most difficult brand of transfiguration created. I suspected that even I would have trouble acquiring that skill, but even so my respect for Professor McGonagall went up in points.

"Good morning Professor," I greeted Professor McGonagall the cat cheerfully. In a blink there was our Professor where once there was a gray tabby.

"My dear girl, how on earth did you know it was me?" asked Professor McGonagall. I smiled.

"I recognized the markings around your eyes. They're the same as your spectacles," I admitted. Professor McGonagall gave me a half-smile.

"Very observant of you Ms…" she waited for me to provide a name.

"Devereux," I answered, "Lissa Devereux."

"Well Ms. Devereux, I must say I am impressed," Professor McGonagall admitted, "Few first year students have any idea what an animagus is, let alone on their first day." I beamed proudly.

"My mother's favorite class was Transfiguration," I told her, "She used to try and teach me some of the theories." Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"And who was your mother my dear?" she asked, "Perhaps I know her from one of my classes?" I shook my head.

"I doubt it," I told her honestly, "She attended Beuxbatons." Professor McGonagall nodded in understanding.

I took my seat as Professor McGonagall transformed back into a cat. Hermione was staring at me wide-eyed. I grinned shyly at her.

"How did you know about animagi?" Hermione demanded furiously, "I didn't come across the term except while reading the more advanced Transfiguration books. It's a third-year term at least!" I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Like I said, my mother loved Transfiguration, she used to tell me everything she could remember about the classes to keep it fresh in her memory," I explained. It was only a partial lie. My mother had indeed loved Transfiguration when she attended school, and she was extraordinarily gifted in it as well, but she had taught me the theories as part of my training. And she hadn't just explained them to me, she had also made me practice them hands-on. I was probably at a fifth-year level of Transfiguration, and I no doubt could've taken the O.W.L.s Exam that morning and made a perfect O. I had always excelled at this subject.

The class gradually began filing in, but I noticed that Harry and Ron were still missing. I felt a nudge of worry in the back of my mind. What if something had happened to them? What if I had been right and there really was something dangerous at this school? My fears were eased when Harry and Ron came in last, out of breath, and clearly confused. I guessed that they had probably gotten lost. They looked around and, after seeing that the teacher wasn't present, seemed to breathe an audible sigh of relief. Little did they know; I felt bad for them.

"She's not here," Ron assured Harry, clapping him on the back, "We're good." Hermione and I exchanged a look, fighting back our giggles. They were in such trouble. It was then that Professor McGonagall decided to make her grand entrance. The entire class (with the exception of Hermione and I) gasped in shock. Hermione and I just grinned knowingly and continued getting our supplies out of our school bags. Harry and Ron looked terrified, and rightly so. Professor McGonagall, who had been smiling at me earlier, did not look even remotely happy with Harry and Ron.

Professor McGonagall strode forward briskly, her mouth in a tight line.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, perhaps it would be beneficial for me to turn one of you into a watch, or an alarm of some sort? One of you might actually arrive on time," she spoke curtly, and I could tell that this was her no-nonsense voice. I fought back a snort as both Harry and Ron turned redder than Ron's hair. It was impressive to say the least.

"We got lost," mumbled Harry apologetically. I noticed Professor McGonagall soften slightly. I frowned in confusion, she had been annoyed before, but now she looked almost…nostalgic?

"Yes well, perhaps I should turn you into a map then?" she asked briskly. She motioned for them to take her seats before turning back to the desk to begin the lecture. I began taking diligent notes. I already understood most of what she was teaching, but I knew that there was always a possibility that she would teach something my mother had failed to cover, and I wasn't about to miss it.

By the end of the class Professor McGonagall had us all working to turn matchsticks to needles. I had managed to do so on my first go, and Professor McGonagall, who had been thoroughly impressed, held it up for the class to see and awarded twenty points to Gryffindor for the accomplishment. I covered my smirk; there was no need to be cocky. If I hadn't already learned how to do basic magic at age seven then there was no telling where I would be in this class. I would probably be somewhere close to Hermione, who had managed to make her match go sharp and pointy. I felt bad; it was actually very impressive for her first day, but because of my success it got little notice from Professor McGonagall. Hermione looked as if she might cry. I decided to help her out a bit.

"The trick is to picture the actual process, and not just what you want the finished product to look like," I whispered, "Try and see the match morphing into the needle. Try it." Hermione frowned slightly, but she took a deep breath and muttered the spell, her brows furrowed in concentration. Immediately the match morphed into a perfect needle.

"Professor McGonagall!" I yelled, raising my hand, "Hermione's done it!" Professor McGonagall came over to our desk to have a look, and I swear she looked like she might clap with excitement.

"I've never had two students manage this spell perfectly on the first day," she told us, "Twenty more points to Gryffindor, and I must congratulate you girls. You seem to have a knack for Transfiguration." She smiled down at us and then turned back to the class. She dismissed us early, saying that with two students mastering the spell, she didn't think it necessary to force us in class much longer. Hermione was positively gleeful as we exited that class.

"Lissa that was positively brilliant advice," Hermione told me. I blushed.

"Really it was nothing," I told her, "You were the one who mastered the spell on your own." Hermione shook her head quickly.

"No, really Lissa," she insisted, "I never would've gotten that spell without your help." I shrugged. I had really just sped up the process a little; she would've gotten the spell by the end of the afternoon I was sure, but I didn't feel like contradicting her.

Our next class was Herbology, and I ended up at a table with Harry, Ron, and two Hufflepuff guys. Hermione was at a table with Lavender and Pavarti (I had finally managed to remember her name), and two more Hufflepuff girls. We weren't really doing anything today, which I was grateful for. I had never developed my mother's green thumb, and I was certain that Herbology would be my worst subject. But thankfully we got through the class without having to actually touch any of the plants in our greenhouse. I was sure that eventually I would have to work with these plants, but the longer I could put it off the happier I would be.

Hermione wouldn't stop talking about classes. We were eating lunch, and every word out of her mouth since exiting the Herbology Greenhouse had either been about how remarkable Transfiguration had been or the many different kinds of plants in the greenhouse. I loved school as much as the next girl, but this was getting ridiculous. Ron was even more annoyed than I was, and I could tell that he blamed me for her presence. If he had his way, Hermione would be sent away with her tail between her legs, but I wouldn't let him be mean to her. Not only was she my friend, she was also the girl I had to live with for the next seven years. So no matter how annoying the constant talk of classes was getting, I was sticking up for her. I could tell that even Harry was losing his patience.

"Hermione," I interrupted her tirade on Transfiguration theory, "Why don't you take a break from school and actually eat your lunch?" Hermione blushed slightly and apologized. I grinned; even Hermione was beginning to realize how annoying her rambling could get. This was why I was friends with her. We retired into silence as I finished my last spoonful of soup and told the others that I would meet them at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They all bid me farewell, and Hermione had already taken out her book to get started on Transfiguration homework. I rolled my eyes and walked off. I didn't trust the Professor for DADA. Professor Quirrel was the man in the purple turban from yesterday, and whether it was because of my natural instinct, or the fact that both mine and Harry's scar had burned the minute I looked at him, I knew that I didn't trust him at all.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was boring. I was surprised because I had always loved the subject, but Professor Quirrel seemed to only want to talk about the dangers of certain creatures rather than go over the different ways of defeating them. He spent the entire hour reiterating how perfectly dreadful vampires were and how one should always make a point to avoid them if one could. I though this was slightly misguided as most Vampires don't have a choice in there existence and a majority of them only take blood from willing donors. In fact, my mother had told me about one of her old friends who was a Vampire and how she absolutely despised the idea of forcing someone to give blood and the idea of killing was preposterous in her mind. In short, I decided early into the class that I did not like Professor Quirrel at all.

After Defense Against the Dark Arts class I went straight to the Owlery to tell my mother about my day. She was waiting for me patiently, perched on a window sill and ruffling her wings every now and then. She fixed me with a piercing stare as soon as I entered the owlery.

"Salut, Maman," I greeted her as I stepped off the stairs that led to the tower. She gave a soft hoot in return and flew over, landing gently on my shoulder. I stroked her feathers gently as she tugged on my hair and hooted in my ear. It was the only kind of affection she could give me in this form, and I was grateful to have even that. I sat down on a bench near the window and began to tell her about my day. I told her about my distrust of Professor Quirrel and my scar hurting the night before. She sat there quietly, a comforting weight on my shoulder, and every once in awhile she would give a soft hoot to reassure me that she was there. I stroked her as I spoke, wishing I could crawl into her arms and be like a normal eleven-year-old girl. I wanted to go back to the times when she was only my mother, and not my trainer. The days before magic and protectors were the ones I missed most, but for now I would be satisfied with the owl currently hanging onto my every word. Eventually I ran out of things to say, and we sat there, enjoying the silence until the sound of footsteps startled us out of our peaceful solitude. My mother nipped at my ear affectionately before taking off in flight. Her soft feathers brushed my cheek as she exited the owlery. To me it felt like a kiss goodbye. I fought back the tears of sadness and turned to see who had cut my time with my mother short. It was Harry. He studied me closely, as if he could tell that something was off. I smiled and walked away from the window, not bothering to try for a last glimpse of my mother; I knew that she was gone.

"Are you okay?" asked a concerned Harry. I nodded.

"I'm fine," I told him in a steady voice, and in that moment I knew that I was. I missed home, and I missed my mother desperately, but I had Hogwarts, and for the first time for as long as I could remember, I had friends.

"I was just sending my letter to mum, what about you?" I asked. Harry shrugged, and I thought I caught a glimpse of sadness in his eyes as he sat down next to me at the window seat.

"I was just coming up here to check on Hedwig," he explained, "I don't really have too many people to write to." I felt a stab of guilt. I knew Harry must wish he had a family like what Ron and I had. My family might not be the greatest, but I still had someone who missed me when I was away; Harry didn't have that.

"Do you want to explore the castle with me after you're done here?" I asked him, trying to distract him. Harry's eyes lit up in excitement.

"Sure!" he agreed enthusiastically before standing up again. He looked around, searching for his snowy owl, but she was nowhere to be found.

"I guess she's out hunting," he shrugged in disappointment, "Where do you want to go?" I shrugged.

"Let's just see what we can find," I told him, and we both exited the owlery and I turned left down a random corridor. Harry and I joked most of the way as we opened the door to random classrooms and peeked our heads in. Eventually we ended up out on the grounds, walking around the Great Lake. I glanced at the water suspiciously, but since I wasn't actually in it, it managed to not bother me as much as usual. Harry noticed my nervous glance in its direction and decided to ask about it.

"Why are you so afraid of the water?" asked Harry, curious. I shrugged. I didn't want to get into the reasons behind my fears. In truth, I wasn't even sure why I was afraid to begin with. I had always feared the water, but I had never had a traumatic experience with it that I could remember. There were no near drownings in my past or lost loved ones that had died on the water. I was just terrified of it.

"I don't know," I told him, "I've always been afraid of it though." I looked up and met his eyes, narrowing them in mock warning, "Don't you dare tell anyone that I'm afraid of it," I warned him. He chuckled.

"I wouldn't dream of it Lissa," he laughed, "You're scary when you're angry." I smiled in gratitude. My fears were things I liked to keep close to the belt. Letting someone know your fears gave them too much power over you. They had a weapon that they could use against you, and you could never get it away from them after that. I hadn't intended for Harry to know my fear of water, but I had a feeling that I could trust him not to use it against me. At least, I hoped I could trust him.

When we got back to the common room, Ron was waiting for us with a bloody nose.

"Ron what happened?" I asked in alarm.

"Malfoy," explained Hermione darkly as she pressed a napkin to his nose, trying to sop up the blood. I felt a surge of anger at this. Malfoy had hurt my friend. I was not okay with this. I moved Hermione aside and pulled out my wand, pointing it at Ron's bleeding nose.

"Episkey," I murmured quietly. Almost immediately the bleeding stopped and Ron looked at me in amazement.

"How did you do that?" Ron asked in wonder. I shrugged, blushing furiously. I shouldn't have done that; I should have taken him to the hospital wing and let the nurse take care of it. Mum would kill me when she found out I had been that careless, but it was done.

"I've been reading about healing charms," I explained, "And I just mastered the theory behind that one. It saved you a trip to the hospital wing at any rate." I bit my lip and silently sent up a prayer that the others would buy my fib. Ron seemed dubious, but willing enough to accept my answer, Hermione and Harry however, were still looking at me curiously. Hermione, I knew, would have read all about healing charms, and she would have realized that the spell I had just preformed was closer to a sixth year's level of magic rather than our first year level. And Harry wasn't stupid; I was beginning to suspect that he was able to read me better than the others, because he always seemed to realize when I was lying.

I quickly excused myself after that, not even bothering to stay and hear Ron's story of why Malfoy had given him a bloody nose. I wanted to escape the staring and questions I saw in both Harry's and Hermione's eyes. Unfortunately, while I may be able to avoid Harry in the girl's dormitory, Hermione was a different story altogether. She showed up not long afterwards to question me.

"How do you know that level of magic?" Hermione demanded as soon as she entered the dormitory. I shrugged as I reached for a book from my shelf.

"I told you," I began, but Hermione cut me off.

"There's no way you were able to understand the theories behind that charm without extensive study and practice. You would've had to have practiced that particular charm dozens of times in order to have gotten it perfect the way you did." Hermione declared, "I can't even understand the theories behind that charm, and I've already mastered a few of the more basic spells we'll be learning this year. That was a N.E.W.T level charm." I rolled my eyes dramatically. Hermione's questions were getting on my nerves, but more importantly, I was annoyed with myself for giving her a reason to ask those questions.

"Maybe I'm just smarter than you Hermione," I snapped peevishly, "Did you ever think of that?" Immediately after the words had left my mouth I regretted saying them. Hermione looked as if she had been slapped. I could tell that I had hit on one of her insecurities. I nearly groaned out loud at my stupidity.

"Hermione," I started in apologetically, but she held up her hand to stop my apology. Her eyes were hard, and I knew that she was working on reigning in her temper.

"I get it if you don't want to tell me the truth," she told me coldly, "But I thought we were friends. Please don't insult my intelligence by giving me the same lie you gave Ron." And with that she turned to her bed and drew the curtains around her, effectively shutting me out. I collapsed on my pillow in defeat. I was an idiot. I had just alienated my only girl friend, and I was sure that Ron and Harry would eventually realize the lie I was telling and turn their backs on me as well. I was hopeless. My first friends and I wouldn't even be able to keep them for a day.

The next day was horrible. Hermione refused to speak to me, casting me cold glances every now and then; Ron didn't mind this at all because it meant that she was no longer going on about school, but I couldn't get rid of the constant guilt gnawing away at my insides. Harry kept shooting me odd glances throughout the day and I couldn't bring myself to look at him. To make matters worse, today was our first day of potions, and as if that weren't bad enough, it was with the Slytherins.

Malfoy clearly hadn't forgotten the fact that I had gotten him his first detention because as soon as I entered the classroom he shot an ugly glare in my direction. If I were anyone else the look might have frightened me, but I knew that when it came down to it, I was more than capable of beating him in a duel. But Malfoy was the least of my worries. My greatest concern was the professor.

I quickly came to the conclusion that Professor Snape was the meanest, most miserable piece of slime to walk the planet. The fact that he seemed to hate Harry did not put him in my good graces.

Harry, Ron, and I sat down at the same table just before Professor Snape came sweeping in, his sallow face and hooked nose giving me the impression of a vampire (yes I realize I'm going against my whole "Vampires are nice" speech from earlier). Professor Snape definitely did _not_ look like a friendly vampire. However, something odd happened as soon as his eyes moved to our table.

Snape sneered a little when he caught sight of Harry, something that I didn't understand at all; how can you instantly dislike someone? But as soon as Snape's black eyes landed on me he went white. It looked like all of the blood had been drained out of his face. I shared a confused look with Ron and Harry, who had both noticed Snape's reaction to seeing me. Snape looked like he had seen a ghost, and I wasn't sure what I had done to cause such a reaction.

Snape quickly regained his composure and as soon as he did, he began to torment Harry. He started by taking role. He paused at my name briefly, and his face looked puzzled; for a brief moment I worried that he would somehow recognize my last name, but then he moved on, pausing only when he came to Harry's name.

"Ah, Harry Potter," he leered unpleasantly, "Our new celebrity." I gritted my teeth in annoyance as Harry blushed and looked away. I knew he hated any sort of reference to his fame, and honestly I didn't blame him. Who wanted to be reminded of the fact that they were famous for the murder of their family? Not me. Snape seemed to be enjoying Harry's discomfort however, because he moved closer to our table and looked down at Harry, a look of disdain on his face.

"Oh don't be so modest Mr. Potter; after all, I doubt you even have a need for this class. Am I right? A great wizard like you should have no trouble with something as basic as potions. Tell me, where would I find a bezoar?" Harry looked terrified at having been asked a question on the fist day. I felt bad for him, an even though I knew the answer, it was hardly something a first year _would _know. I glared up at Snape, wishing I could burn him with my look.

"Hmmm," Snape hummed in a sick sort of pleasure, "Clearly, fame isn't everything after all. Did you think you could come into my class without picking up a book all summer Potter? Or are you really just that stupid?" Harry shot Snape a look of pure hatred as Malfoy snickered with the other Slytherins.

"Leave him alone," I snapped indignantly, "I bet you could ask any of the students in this classroom and less than half of them could tell you where to find a bezoar." Snape raised an eyebrow as he studied me intensely. I refused to look away, even though his gaze was making me uncomfortable.

"Well Ms…Devereux was it?" he started, "clearly you have a problem with the way I teach, so by all means, voice your complaints." I lifted my chin in defiance.

"I don't know what your problem with Harry is Professor," I spat sarcastically, "But I think it's unfair to treat him poorly because you assume because he's famous he's automatically going to act a certain way. I guarantee you that Harry would rather be anonymous with parents than famous without them, and it's extremely unprofessional of you to pick on a student over some pathetic vendetta that you hold against those who are better known than you." Snape smiled sardonically, and I knew before he opened his mouth that I was in trouble.

"Detention, Ms. Devereux," he stated calmly, "Perhaps that will teach you to respect your elders." And with that he walked away to begin class; I rolled my eyes and began taking notes. Snape didn't scare me; I'd gone through much worse than a detention during training with my mother. I ignored the looks I got from Harry and Ron throughout class, but after we were released I was ambushed.

"What the bloody hell are you dong, going against Snape on the first day?" Ron demanded, "Are you mental?" I rolled my eyes.

"Yes Ronald," I replied, "We've already established that my sanity is not all it should be." Both boys snorted at my flippant tone.

"Well you shouldn't have gotten yourself in trouble over me," Harry insisted, "I can handle Snape." I smiled at Harry.

"I'm sure you can Harry, but that doesn't excuse the fact that his behavior was ridiculous and it pissed me off." Just then I was nearly bowled over by Malfoy and his cronies.

"Oi!" Harry shouted after them, "Apologize!" I shot Harry an warning glance, telling him to back off. Malfoy smirked before giving him a mocking bow.

"Yes your majesty," he sneered, "Anything you say _your majesty_"

"Shut up Malfoy," I growled, reaching for my wand. Malfoy just smirked.

"Looks like we'll be seeing each other in detention this week Devereux," he gloated, "I _so _look forward to it." And with that he left. Ron and Harry were bristling behind me at Malfoy's veiled threat, but I just shrugged it off.

Our next class was History of Magic, and it was by far the most boring class I had ever sat through in my entire life. Professor Binns was the only ghost to teach at Hogwarts, and no one was entirely sure how long he had been teaching there to begin with. One day he had simply died and when it came time for class he got up and started his lesson, not seeming to notice the fact that he no longer had a body. His voice grated like nails on a chalk board, and he spoke in a monotone about the most boring subjects. I had always found Magical History to be fascinating, but even I was having trouble finding interest in the seventh goblin war.

I woke somewhere strange. It was dark and cool, and I didn't recognize it at all. It looked as if it might be some hidden underground chamber at Hogwarts, but I couldn't be sure. My entire body ached from the torture I had endured, and tears were streaming down my face.

"Tell me where to find the stone!" commanded a cold, shrill voice. I shook my head in refusal, desperately wishing for relief from the pain.

"Crucio!" screamed the voice, and suddenly it was like a thousand knives stabbing into me at once, like my entire body on fire. It was the very worst pain imaginable, and it never ended. I screamed in agony, wishing for death. The world began to dim and I knew I was about to die. At least I would die without ever handing over the stone.

"Lissa?" came a voice from a distance.

"Lissa?" It was louder now, the pain was beginning to fade. Was I dead?

"Lissa!" yelled a voice right next to my ear. I jerked awake.

I was curled up in a ball on the floor of the History of Magic classroom. Harry and Ron were looking at me in concern, and even Hermione looked anxious. I was sweaty and cold with fear; my heart was pounding in my rib cage and I wished it would slow.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked gently. I nodded silently, unable to find my voice.

"Perhaps my dear, you would like to go to the hospital wing," suggested Professor Binns in his stuffy voice. I shook my head in denial.

"Dumbledore," I whispered, barely audible.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" asked Professor Binns.

"I need Dumbledore," I repeated in a slightly steadier tone; the others all looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "Please," I added desperately, "It's important that I speak to Professor Dumbledore right away." Professor Binns looked hesitant for a moment before he consented.

"Very well," he agreed reluctantly, "The Headmaster's office is on the second floor corridor, behind the giant gargoyle; the password is licorice snaps." I sighed in relief and nodded before standing up and hurriedly moving to escape the class and the curious stares following me.

Normally a bad dream would not have fazed me, but this dream was different; it scared me. To add to my confusion, the scar on my hand was prickling, something that it never did. No, this dream was not normal, and I was going to figure it out if it killed me.

I reached the gargoyle guarding Professor Dumbledore's office with little trouble. The gargoyle leapt aside as soon as I murmured the password, revealing a stone staircase leading up to Dumbledore's study. I hurriedly stepped onto the staircase and began making my way up, wanting to get this over with.

I was half expecting Dumbledore's door to be locked, but it opened easily for me, revealing a large, circular room with walls covered from floor to ceiling with paintings of headmasters passed; all were sleeping soundly. Dumbledore himself sat behind a desk covered in delicate and foreign looking instruments that whirred and buzzed away, giving no hint to their actual purposes. Without looking up, Dumbledore greeted me.

"Most would consider it polite to knock, but from what I hear of you Ms. Black, you're not one for useless pleasantries." Dumbledore looked up, his bright blue eyes twinkling merrily. I blushed at my lack of manners; I had been too preoccupied to consider knocking. Dumbledore winked in amusement, and I understood that he wouldn't hold it against me.

"It's Ms. Devereux, Professor," I corrected him, "And I needed to speak with you; it's quite urgent." Dumbledore motioned for me to take a seat at his desk, which I happily consented to do. I was still a little shaky from the dream, and sitting down came as a relief to my frayed nerves.

"Now Ms. Black, you and I both know that Devereux is not your real name so I would appreciate it if you would allow me to drop pretenses while behind the safety of my office doors," Professor Dumbledore said lightly, taking me by surprise. I, of course, knew that he was aware of my family history, but I had hoped that he would refuse to acknowledge it. Denial made it much easier for me to keep up my charade.

"Very well," I consented reluctantly. Dumbledore smiled benignly and folded his hands in front of him, fixing me with a steady gaze.

"Now that we have that settled, why don't you tell me what is on your mind," he said nonchalantly, as if we were merely discussing the weather.

I told him about my dream, about my scare prickling and about my concern for what it might mean. Dumbledore's eyes darkened slightly as I continued. When I was finished he stood up and began pacing. I watched him patiently, waiting for his response.

"Has your scar ever bothered you before?" Dumbledore asked me gravely, continuing in his pacing.

"Only once before, sir," I told him, "During the Welcome Feast." Dumbledore frowned as if this were not welcome news.

"Have you ever before experienced prophetic dreams?" Dumbledore demanded after a moment more of his pacing. I shook my head in answer.

"Never," I affirmed.

"Now tell me, Ms. Black, what you know of the Sorcerer's Stone," Dumbledore commanded; his eyes were serious and lacking in their usual brightness. I furrowed my brow in confusion. The term he used sounded familiar, but I wasn't very clear on the particulars.

"Isn't it a tool used in alchemy?" I asked, curious. Dumbledore nodded before taking a seat once more.

"You are correct Ms. Black," he told me, "The Sorcerer's Stone is a tool used in alchemy, although it is exceedingly rare to find even in that field; currently, there is only one in existence." I nodded, understanding what he said, but not quite comprehending what it meant.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't think I quite understand the connection between a Sorcerer's Stone and my dream," I explained hesitantly. Dumbledore nodded, looking as if my confusion was perfectly natural. I suspected that it probably was.

"Tell me, aside from transforming any metal into pure gold, do you know what else a Sorcerer's Stone is capable of?" asked Dumbledore. I shook my head.

"A Sorcerer's Stone," Dumbledore began, "is the only proven source of the elixir of life. It renders the user of the Stone immortal."

"So you mean the owner could never die?" I asked. Dumbledore chuckled.

"That is the general idea, yes," he consented amicably.

"But, Professor, I still don't understand what that has to do with my dream," I admitted, "Are you saying that the stone mentioned in my dream is a Sorcerer's Stone?"

"That is _exactly_ what I am alluding to," Dumbledore answered triumphantly, "You see, earlier this month, someone broke into Gringotts with the intention of stealing the only known stone in existence."

"Is that the break-in that was in the Daily Prophet yesterday?" I asked. Dumbledore nodded.

"You are more informed than I had originally thought," he told me, "I must say that I am quite impressed." I blushed at the compliment.

"But whoever it was, they didn't succeed did they?" I guessed, "The prophet said that nothing was taken. It said that the vault in question had been emptied earlier that very same day."

"Once again, you are correct," Dumbledore told me cheerfully, "And can you guess where the Stone might be hidden at this very moment?" I though about this question carefully. I remembered my mother telling me that there was no safer place to keep something than at Gringotts, except perhaps…

"It's here, isn't it?" I guessed, "That's why no one is allowed in the third floor corridor; that's where it's hidden!" Dumbledore laughed merrily and granted me a small round of applause.

"Oh bravo Ms. Black," he congratulated me, "I do believe that you are one of the brightest students I have ever met, and that my dear is saying something." I blushed once more.

"So that is what I saw in my dream?" I asked, "Someone is going to try to use me to steal the stone?" Dumbledore nodded, his expression grave once more.

"I'm afraid so," he answered.

"But who would be after the stone?" I wondered aloud.

"Can you think of no one?" Dumbledore pressed urgently, "No one who would be desperate to gain immortality?" I thought about this for a long time, but suddenly it hit me.

"Voldemort," I whispered in a horrified tone, "Voldemort wants to use me to get the stone." The answer seemed so clear to me now, that I wondered how I could possibly have missed it. Dumbledore remained silent. His silence only served to heighten my conviction that I was right.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked him in a hushed tone, "I'm just a student, a first year."

"Because Ms. Black, I want you to be prepared for what is coming. You need to know so that you can be on your guard," Dumbledore answered, "And besides, I think you and I both know that you are far from being an ordinary first year." I nodded, still trying to absorb this information. Dumbledore smiled gently.

"I can see that I have given you a lot to puzzle through," he declared, "I believe you would do best to return to your dormitory and use the time allotted to think over things a bit more." I stood quietly, recognizing the dismissal, and headed for the door. Before leaving I turned to face Dumbledore again.

"Thank you, Professor," I told him earnestly, "For the warning." Dumbledore nodded affably and I turned to exit. The door close with a quiet thud behind me and before I knew it, I was standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Fortuna Major," I said quietly. The portrait swung open to reveal the doorway to the Gryffindor common room, which was currently empty. I realized that everybody must currently still be in class. I decided to take Dumbledore's advice and use the quiet time to think about all that I had learned today. I climbed up to the girl's dormitory and collapsed on my bed, pulling the curtains closed around me and effectively shutting out the world.

I lay in my four poster bed quietly, thinking about what Dumbledore had told me. I was so used to the idea of protecting Harry, that I had never considered a situation where I might need to protect myself. The idea of me being in danger was hard to fathom. Why would Voldemort think that I could get past whatever spells and enchantments that were guarding the stone? It was true that I possessed a great deal more ability than the average eleven-year-old, but I was still only eleven. The idea that I could get past any spell cast by Professor Dumbledore or any of the other teachers at this school was preposterous…wasn't it?

How could I protect Harry if I was busy trying to keep myself from being captured?

"_You can't,"_ whispered the tiny voice inside me. I knew that it was right; I couldn't protect Harry to the best of my abilities and still be concerned with my safety. That was the first lesson my mother had ever taught me, albeit unknowingly. You have to be willing to die for the person you are protecting. I had learned that from her stories of Lily Potter, my godmother, who had given her life for Harry and me.

The answer was clear to me; Harry was my first priority, and I had to be concerned for his safety above my own. This meant that I would not waste my energies on protecting myself from whatever was coming. I would take everything as it came.

My heart beat rapidly in my chest, as if it knew that this decision could stop it all together. I didn't want to die, and I wasn't even sure if, when the time came, I'd be able to put Harry's life above my own, but I knew that I would have to.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs startled me out of my thoughts. Someone was coming. For a moment I tensed, prepared for a fight, but then I realized that it was just my fellow dorm mates.

"What do you think happened?" asked Lavender.

"Who knows?" answered Pavarti, "One minute she was sleeping like the rest of us and the next it was like she was having some sort of fit or something."

"Do you think she's….you know…alright up there?" I didn't need to see Lavender to know that she was pointing to her mind. I knew they were talking about me.

"Who knows," Pavarti answered, "She's definitely not normal. And what was up with her insisting on seeing Dumbledore?"

"Do you think she saw something?" asked Lavender.

"You mean like the future? I doubt it. I think she's just weird," declared Pavarti.

"Maybe we can ask her about it when she gets back?" suggested Lavender, "Anyway I'm hungry, want to head to dinner?"

"Sure," and with that I could hear their retreating footsteps on the stairs.

I was stung by the words of my dorm mates. I knew that I was by no means normal, but I had hoped that I could at least pass as an average eleven-year-old witch. Clearly I had not succeeded, and their words stung. It solidified my belief that if anyone ever found out the truth about my life I would be deserted. I was surprised to find a tear roll down my cheek. Hurriedly I wiped it away, sniffing.

The curtains flew open suddenly, revealing Hermione looking down at me with a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and sympathy. I stared up at her in surprise. I hadn't even realized that she had been in the room throughout the conversation between Lavender and Pavarti.

"You shouldn't pay attention to what they say," Hermione told me, "They don't mean anything by it."

"Seems to me they meant a lot by it," I muttered, refusing to meet Hermione's eyes. I felt the dip in the mattress as she sat down next to me.

"They're just silly girls," she told me. Don't let it bother you."

"I thought you weren't speaking to me?" I reminded her harshly.

"It doesn't mean I agree with what they said," Hermione answered, "I wish you'd tell me what is going on Lissa, but I can't hate you because you have secrets." I closed my eyes, willing myself not to break down. Hermione got up and began to move away.

"Wait!" I called, opening my eyes in surprise at my outcry. Hermione had turned back to me, a look of confusion on her face.

"If I tell you something, you can't tell anyone," I told her seriously. She nodded earnestly as she sat down once more on my bed.

"You can tell me," she assured me.

"You're right, I didn't learn that spell that healed Ron's nose from a book," I admitted.

"Then how did you learn it?" Hermione asked, confused.

"I lied when I said that my mom turned her back on magic," I explained, "She may have taken us away from the wizarding world, but she never stopped doing magic. She's the one who trained me."

"Trained you?" Hermione questioned, "How do you mean?"

"My mom's been training me in magic since I first showed signs of it," I told her, "I can do most beginner spells nonverbally and I know some spells that are fifth year and above."

"But why did your mother teach you all of this? And why is it so important that no one else knows?" implored Hermione. I sighed heavily, rubbing my temples to alleviate the headache I could feel coming on.

"Because she wanted me to protect Harry," I explained, "That's why she trained me herself, so that I could go to Hogwarts and protect him."

Hermione stared at me blankly for a moment. I looked away, wishing that I could take it back. I shouldn't have given her so much information; now it was only a matter of time before she told everyone.

"So let me get this straight," Hermione began after a long moment of silence, "Your mom has been training you since you were seven-years-old so that you can protect Harry?" I nodded.

"Why?" I looked up at Hermione, my face was closed off, and I knew she got the message. That question was off limits.

"Okay well at least I know why you're so much better in class than I am," Hermione murmured to herself. I laughed.

"That's what you think about?" I asked incredulously. Hermione shrugged.

"Now I know that you're not _better _than me so much as more experienced." I nodded.

"I won't argue there," I told her, "If it weren't for the past four years of training, I'd have a hard time keeping up with you." Hermione blushed, pleased at the compliment.

"So you won't tell the others then?" I asked. Hermione smiled

"No, I won't tell the others," she answered, "But you do realize you'll have to tell them someday, right?"

"Yes, I know," I responded irritably, "But I would like at least a few years without them all hating me." Hermione cast me a confused look.

"What makes you think that they will hate you?" she asked, curious.

"I'm lying to them, aren't I?" I answered as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You lied to me," Hermione pointed out logically, "And I don't hate you." I scoffed.

"I still don't get why you're still talking to me," I admitted. Hermione drew me into a hug.

"Just because you lied doesn't mean that you're a bad person," she explained, "Now come on, let's go get dinner. I think we've had enough serious talk for today." I tried to fight back my smile, but I'm pretty sure I failed. Hermione beamed at me in return. As we headed out I couldn't help but think that, annoying as she may get, Hermione was now the person who knew the most about me next to my own mother.

Hermione Granger had just become my best friend. Who would have thought?

* * *

**Chapter three will be up as soon as I can manage it. I'm sorry if that takes a while. Review please! :)**


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